


Somewhere Quieter by Nny

by GO_Library_archivist



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-21
Updated: 2005-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-28 19:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GO_Library_archivist/pseuds/GO_Library_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the oldest lines are the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Quieter by Nny

**Author's Note:**

> Note from [Quantum_Witch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Quantum_Witch/profile): this story was originally archived at [The Good Omens Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Good_Omens_Library), which I maintained for eight years until I closed it due to lack of funds and decreased usership. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing the GOL's stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in July 2013. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Good Omens Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/TheGoodOmensLibrary/profile), or through the [GO_Library_archivist](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GO_Library_archivist/profile) account.

[Somewhere Quieter](viewstory.php?sid=69) by [Nny](viewuser.php?uid=11)

 

  
Summary: Sometimes the oldest lines are the best.  
Categories: [Slash Fanfic](browse.php?type=categories&catid=3) Characters:  Aziraphale  
Genres:  Romance  
Warnings:  Slash (mild)  
Challenges:  
Series: None  
Chapters:  1 Completed: No  
Word count: 1136 Read: 204  
Published: 21 Sep 2005 Updated: 21 Sep 2005

n/a by Nny

  
**Somewhere Quieter**

 

"Don't you find yourself getting attached to door handles and such?" The man reached out to touch one of the straps dangling from his top, curiously, and Dave grinned. Bit of a square, maybe, but he was just begging to be corrupted. Not being too subtle about it, either. "Yes, marvelous workmanship. Hard wearing, too, no doubt? Something of an investment, that."

Dave leaned forward and put a hand on the man's arm. "Want to take this somewhere else?" He- Dave had never caught his name, but what did that matter, right?- looked down at the hand, slightly pink, then looked up at him questioningly. "'sa bit noisy here, innit. Could take this somewhere a bit quiet-"

"Alright sunshine, that's enough."

He looked up at the new arrival. Dressed all in black, wearing sunglasses in a club- he should've looked like a poseur, but somehow managed to carry it off. Cool and slightly dangerous. The man across the table had just? lit up, and he mentally gave it up for lost, but he couldn't go down without a fight. He had a rep to think of, after all.

"Oh yeah, says who?"

"Says me." He reached up and lifted his sunglasses, winking at Dave with eyes that were? wrong?

Aziraphael and Crowley watched his hurried exit.

"Now, my dear, was that strictly necessary?"

Crowley sighed, and pulled out a chair, his voice patient. "Look. Angel. When someone says 'shall we go somewhere quieter,' they are not talking about a walk in the park. Nor are they asking whether you'd like to spend some quality time in a library. Rarely, if ever, are they suggesting a quick tour of the art galleries, especially at this time of night." Aziraphael was staring at him, a slight frown on his face, and Crowley shook his head. "He wanted to have sex with you." Aziraphael blinked.

"Yes, I know."

Crowley gaped at him, genuinely shocked. Aziraphael looked faintly exasperated.

"Crowley, I believe that you were one of the originators of that line. Do you really think I could have spent so long in your company without picking up a thing or two? I'm not an idiot, you know."

"I never said you-"

"Besides, I rather think it's your fault, bringing me somewhere like this. 'Thought it was a quiet pub' my eye, frankly."

Crowley looked affronted. "Well I'm sorry I tried to help. Next time I'll just leave you be."

Aziraphael smiled at him, and laid a gentle hand on his arm. "I do appreciate it, you know."

"Yeah, well. Fine job of showing it." The angel muttered something, and Crowley frowned. "What?"

"I said," the angel was rather pink, a nervous smile lurking at the corners of his mouth, "that it's a little noisy in here." Crowley looked down at the hand on his arm, thought for a second, and grinned.

"Care to take this somewhere a bit quieter?"

"An excellent plan, my dear..."

 

* * *

 

"Well," Aziraphale said, as he carefully picked his way through piles of dung that were steaming faintly in the night air, "this wasn't quite what I had in mind, I'll admit."

Crowley steadfastly ignored him. He trudged on through the starlit grass, hands thrust deep into jacket pockets, shoulders hunched.

"Crowley, my dear, is there any particular-"

The demon whirled around. "Look, angel." His voice was a hiss. "Unless you particularly want to do a Daniel, or have faith in your ability to provoke a sudden attack of gum disease, I'd suggest you keep it down. Alright?" Aziraphale opened his mouth, took a look at Crowley's expression, and shut it again. Crowley marched on.

The zoo was never entirely quiet, even at midnight. Espcially at midnight, perhaps, when there were no longer the masking human noises, when the animals knew they were sole masters of their territory. Strange, drawn out hoots, low growls, and a shriek that was rather too close for comfort made the angel quicken pace, the crunch of his footsteps directly behind Crowley. He stopped, and looked sideways at him.

"Got it yet?"

Without waiting for a reply he sprang upwards, landing lightly on a chain link fence before dropping down on the other side. He removed his hands from his pockets, rolled his shoulders, and looked abruptly less nervous, though there was only remark in the end of it- he'd appeared fine before, and it was only with the relaxation that how tightly he'd been wound could be seen. He walked forwards again. From behind came the faint huffing and rattle that indicated Aziraphale making his rather more sedate way to the top.

They walked on, and Crowley caught the occasional sidelong glances as they passed sleeping zebra, antelope, monkeys cradling their young. Eventually he sat on a wide, grassy plain, and looked up at the stars, hugging his knees. Aziraphale let out a sigh as he dropped down beside him, and then it was quiet once more.

"Do you remember?"

The angel looked at him, with that expression he sometimes didn't hide quite enough, the one that said he was deciding how obtuse to be. Eventually, he shrugged. "Yes. I remember. 'And the Lord God planted a garden eastward in Eden; and there he put the man whom he had formed. And out of the ground made the Lord God to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight.'"

Crowley nodded, and his voice was bitter as he continued. "'And out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field, and every fowl of the air...' and the serpent was the most subtle, angel. I'm not nice."

"And we've discussed that I'm not an idiot. I know precisely what you are, Crowley. And I know who. And I find that the former is rather overshadowed by the latter."

"I've done terrible things. I will continue to do terrible things. I bloody enjoyed them."

"And you found me a first edition copy of Dorian Grey, after the apocalypse incident. You stood with me, when you thought it was the end. I know you, Crowley. Don't think I'll stop thwarting, but..." The angel shuffled a little closer, and leaned tentatively against him. Crowley didn't accomodate him, but nor did he move away.

"But what?"

"'I am sick of loveable people,  
Somehow they are a lie.'"

Crowley snorted softly, and relaxed a little, letting the angel rest his head on his shoulder.

"Bibliophile."

"And proud of it, dear boy." The angel settled more fully against him. "And I have a car boot sale on Sunday, which I'd really appreciate a lift to..."

Crowley laughed, long and loud.

 

  
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

This story archived at <http://library.good-omens.net/viewstory.php?sid=69>


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